


The Perks of Not Working Alone

by WaveMoonstone



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M, Racial Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaveMoonstone/pseuds/WaveMoonstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a child Thorek had heard all the stories about pointed-ear devils commanding unnatural powder from dark gods to desecrate the dead and gobble down naughty children, and it took him long enough to discover that was entirely inaccurate outside of bedtime stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

  
Thorek drove his sword into the head of a snowy-saber cat and sheathed his weapon, returning back to the slow moving caravan he was being payed to guard. He mostly escorted caravans to and from cities and got payed a portion of the what the caravan driver collected from his passengers, though he did sometimes work as a hired escort for nobles or doing odd jobs to make ends meet. It was good, honest work- he got to see all of Skyrim while being paid; he did a good amount of fighting each day against all sorts of things- mudcrabs, bears, wolves, bandits, or even the occasional witch was laid to waste by his steel and muscle.  
  
This particular caravan had started in Riften and was going to end in Windhelm, with minor side trips and stopping to let people off and on. With the bone chilling cold of winter growing near many people were not traveling and in effect Thorek ended up with a light coin-purse and an insatiable appetite.  
  
Right now, there are only two other people in the caravan besides himself and the driver. One was a small male Bosmer and a tough looking older female Nord. The Nord looked only slightly put off by the cold snow falling around them, but the smaller male was shivering even through his thick tunic and fur boots; Thorek thanked his thick Nord blood which made even the toughest Skyrim winters more tolerable. Slow hours crawled by as wooden caravan wheels crashed over hard grey cobblestone, they were slowly getting close to their destination.  
  
The road stretched on grey and cold with the scenery a colorless, snowy white with grey trees heavy with snow. Frosty wind whipped past the bare tree branches making the old grey tree bark groan in protest. The occasional dear could be seen running off in the distance, but otherwise nothing moved. It was dim for the late afternoon, but the clouds had created a murky grey slate ceiling that kept any stray hint of sun from shining through.  
  
A little further down the road a trio of bandits approached with weapons drawn; Thorek unsheathed his sword and jumped off the caravan without a second thought, catching the bandits axe with his shield and delivering a debilitating blow to his ribs. The other two surrounded him with flailing swords which he deflected and injured another one in the shoulder, whom he promptly finished off. The last bandit was a bit trickier- he was a magic user in addition to having a sword making him difficult to attack, but once Thorek got close enough, he delivered a killing blow to the mans neck, but not before he got burnt by summoned fire on his upper and lower arm; he would have to buy a healing potion when they stopped in Windhelm.  
  
A few hours later, the caravan arrived in Windhelm. The women and elf slowly got out of the cart, stretched, and made haste to the nearest Inn. Thorek did too after receiving the last portion of his pay from the driver. He just hoped there would be warm beds and plenty of work.  
  
  
There was plenty of work to be done- firewood to chop for the innkeeper, errands to run, an Argonian dockworker had even given him the task of retrieving a special necklace of hers from a group of witches, that she was willing to pay well for, of course. The Argonian woman looked pretty shady, but then again, all Argonians did. To Thorek it was the combination of the cool scales and inhuman reptile eyes and the transparent eyelid that casually flicked back and forth, preventing the slitted pupil from drying up in the cold.  
  
On the way to the bandits hideout, a cold isolated cave somewhere north of Windhelm, nothing happened except a run-in with the Thalmor. How he hated those godless elves and the arrogant way they looked down on everyone, and the fact they thought they could stop the Nords worship of Talos. Every time he saw them he could not help but feel his blood boil.  
  
"Be on your way, citizen," a Thalmor elf spat out, glaring at him as if questioning the purpose of his existence.  
  
Thorek didn't say a word as he passed, but gave a spite-filled look to the High Elf wearing hooded robes- the leader of their pretentious gang.  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
The cave was cold and icy, the mouth hidden from the strong winds between two trees and a large boulder powdered white. It was home to a witch coven, and even thought they had numbers on their side, they weren't too tough. Most of the witches lacked discipline and scared easy once they realized Thorek wasn’t going to cringe away in fear at the sight of magic.  
  
The cave separated into many smaller tunnels and finally, he arrived at what seemed to be an entrance to a room with an alter near a stone slab table, where five witches sat watching from benches below, and two more seemed to be dragging an unwilling victim towards the table that was covered in blood and bones from their previous victim. He crouched down and tried to stay hidden in the shadows as he made his way closer to where the witches sat, and to their sacrifice. Thorek couldn't get a good look at his face, but he could see that his hands and feet were bound, and there was a dirty rag cloth in his mouth to keep the man from screaming. He squirmed, but the witches had a strong hold on his forearms and waist, while holding a ceremonial blade to the soft flesh of his neck.  
  
These creepy witches had kidnapped some poor traveler to sacrifice in their ritual. He hoped to save the man, although the chances of his survival were looking grim.  
  
He crept up behind one of the witches sitting in a bench near the back of the room, and ran her through with his sword- one down, but his lack of stealthiness had alerted the whole room, and the witches pummeled him with ice and fire; one even summoned what appeared to be a fiery vixen that threw bolts of fire. Their hits hurt, but the hags easily fell to his sword. Thorek was glad that he had not seen the sacrifice enter the fray with his hands bound, and had the sense to stay somewhere safe.  
  
After killing the last one with a stab to the chest, Thorek downed some of the healing potions he'd found laying around, his health had mostly recovered and he was walking around collecting equipment and valuable the witches had left. The man was sitting on a chest pushed back to the room, behind the altar and table.  
  
To his disappointment, the man happened to be a High Elf, some Thalmor probably. He had golden skin and intense green eyes that smoldered even in the dim lighting. He was tall like other Altmer, but very thin. Soft looking brown hair reached his shoulders and framed those emerald eyes and a delicate nose.  
  
Thorek bent down and undid the foul smelling cloth that kept the sacrifice from making any amount of noise.  
  
"Thank you, for coming to my rescue," said the elf who gave a nervous laugh, at the total mercy of a stranger, of a Nord.  
  
Thorek was big even for a Nord and had short, curly blonde hair with brown eyes. He was actually shorter than the elf, but even so, Thorel dwarfed him with an thick muscles and an intimidating stature.  
"Don't think I'm here just to rescue you Elf," Thorek glared at him. Damn Elves, thinking that everything revolved around them.  
  
The elf raised his slim wrists towards the Thorek, which he caught with one of his larger hands and made short work of the rope that wrapped around the elf's wrists and around a good portion of his lower arms.  
  
"Either way, I'm glad to be free," the Elf replied, not dissuaded by his rescuers harsh words.  
  
His rescuer had grabbed his ankles and was finishing his work of unbinding the thick ropes that kept him unable to walk or use his magic. Once they were undone, he quickly started to rub the angry red marks that had nearly stopped the circulation in his extremities.  
  
"What's your name?" the High Elf asked, looking up curiously at the Nords scowling face.  
  
"Thorek. Now you're going to have to move off that chest, I'm looking for something," Thorek said as he nearly pushed the nude elf off the chest he was sitting on. Digging around, he pulled out the Argonian’s necklace, or at least the necklace she claimed was hers, and collected the gold the witches had stored in it, along with a few miscellaneous potions. Satisfied with what he found Thorek turned to continue along the tunnel that should lead back to Skyrim.  
  
"My name's Faelon," the elf said to the Nords retreating form and followed after the burlier male, who was heading through a cramped tunnel leading upwards.  
  
The Nord grunted but did not stop or slow his travel towards the end of the tunnel. As they reached towards the entrance, Faelon was reminded of his nude state as he felt cold air blowing in through the cave, and snow made the opening almost blindingly white.  
  
The Nord plowed on through the snow without stopping to look back at the elf struggling through the freezing snow.  
  
"Do you have any clothes I can have? Just some old boots and a tunic or anything would be great?" said the elf who now had his arms around himself in anyway to preserve his rapidly disappearing body heat.  
  
At this, Thorek stopped and rolled his eyes and wanted to reply in a snide tone, _I don't have any Thalmor robes on my person, sorry_ , but he was stopped when he turned around and saw the elf shivering pathetically, with his arms wrapped around his frail body and his dusty nipples hardened into nubs. He had been captive long enough to have a starved looking body with ribs poking out of his abdomen and hip bones that cut out at his waist.  
  
He may have held a strong hatred of High Elves, but he was not cruel, not like them.  
  
"Here," Thorek said, holding out some miscellaneous articles of clothing to the elf who gratefully took them and put them on and quickly paced towards the already moving Nord.  
  
"Thank you," said Faelon, glad to have saved his feet and hands from frostbite, although he was still freezing. He continued to follow the Nord down the stone road because he had lost all sense of direction when he was captured by the witches, and unarmed except for his magic.  
  
"Where are you going?" Faelon inquired, sending a questioning look at the impassive Nord.  
  
"I am going to Windhelm, which is not very far away from where we are now," Thorek slowly responded, trying his best to ignore the elf's stare.  
  
"I will accompany you then," Faelon announced to the Nord.  
  
It seemed like the only thing the elf could do- he was in no condition to travel any further than a nearby town, and he could not stop to rest now because of the snow and frigid weather. Maybe he could even bum a room at an Inn in Winterhold from the man, seeing as he had no money. If the Nord had a problem with him coming, he did not show it. His face was as impassive as ever and didn't reply to what Faelon had said.  

 

* * *

  
  
It was not long until Winterhold's gates loomed ahead of the two; the ugly grey stone structure jutted up from the snowy landscape. If it was possible, the city looked even colder than the surrounding snowy lands.  
  
The people of the city were rude, at best. The majority were Nords, most of which ruled over the common minority, including but not limited too, the Dark Elves. As a result, if a traveler was a Nord, they would overlook you as just a worn traveler, but anyone else was questionable at best- at worst a criminal.  
  
Faelon encountered bad-mannered looks to fuming glares and was even threatened by a greasy looking laborer. As they neared the Inn, he drifted closer to the Nord until he accidentally bumped his arm against Thorek's bicep; Thorek scowled at him but did not push him away.  
  
Thorek was odd, even for a Nord. He had saved Faelon from a painful death, freed him and gave him clothes, but all the while seemed to do so reluctantly and was obviously irritated with the High Elf. If he was angry at Faelon, why was he tolerating him?  
  
Thorek bought a room at the Inn and pushed past the small crowd of people, with the elf close in tow.  
  
At first he had intended to send the elf away once they had escaped the cave, but that hadn't happened. There was something about the elf that would make him feel bad if he left him without any means of protecting himself- Faelon was thin with soft brown hair and bright eyes that gave him an air of vulnerability. And it didn't help that the elf was following him around like a lost puppy.  
  
When Thorek arrived at his room, he immediately sat on the fur-covered bed. The elf poked his head in from around the door exposing the soft flesh of his neck and delicately pointed ears, then stepped wearily into the room and sat crossed-legged on the floor. Immediately the chill spread up from the stone floor to his bones though his clothes.  
  
The Inn provided the basic accommodations of a bed, an empty chest, a wardrobe, and a filled wash-bin.  
  
Faelon glanced over at the Nord who had layed down on the bed facing away from him. If Thorek wasn't going take advantage of the wash basin then he would. He was grimy with dirt and the occasional blood smear; he hadn't washed since before those hags had captured him, a little under a week about he guessed.  
  
He stripped and ran the clean water over his skin with his hands, and rubbing away all the dirt that was on his skin. Faelon shivered as he waited for the water to dry; it was extremely cold even inside the Inn and the idea of sleeping on the floor seemed to be getting worse by the second.  
  
He glanced up at Thorek's sleeping form and wondered if he would mind to much sharing a bed... The Nord probably be annoyed with him and the chances of him getting physically thrown out of the bed were high but he had nothing to loose anyway.  
  
Faelon slipped under the fur-covers of the narrow bed and into the blissful warmth it provided, and curled into a ball facing Thorek's back, who was now deeply asleep. The Nord's spine shifted a little every time he breathed, and his blonde hair was laying in short ringlets on the hard pillow.  
  
Soon, he feel deeply into the embrace of sleep.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
When Thorek awoke he was groggy, but even so, he quickly figured out that the person warming his bed was not part of a heated dream. That elf had climbed up to the bed sometime in the middle of the night and he had unwittingly wrapped himself around the elf, who was also in the nude. Again.  
  
Trying not to wake the elf, he tried to untangle their limbs but Faelon just snuggled closer until his head was resting in the crook of Thorek's neck and Thorek could feel the elf's warm breath tickle his ear.  
  
The situation could have been a lot worse though. Faelon was attractive, even for a High Elf. So Thorek just layed back and enjoyed the feel of warm tanned skin through his clothes and nipples hardened from the cold poking against his own chest. He let Faelon's long brown hair tickle his chin for the time being.  
  
After a while of just relaxing, his bladder finally could not be ignored any longer, and he pried himself away from the elf, who awoke with a confused look and a quiet moan and made a quick trip to the latrine.  
  
  
  
Thorek breakfasted at the Inn; a inexpensive bowl of oats and a slice of cheese was all he had before making his way back to the docks. He had not seen the elf since he awoke this morning and was curious where the elf wold go with nothing besides the clothes Thorek had gave him, but he would not go searching for the elf.  
  
The docks were always frigid; icy wind blew down on the unprotected boardwalk that chilled a man to the bones and waves of the frigid waters lapped incessantly against the boats, bringing up small sprays of water near the boats. The Argonian woman was kneeling near a tanning rack, stripping leather from wolves fur into usable strips. He gave her the necklace with no questions asked, and received his payment- two hundred gold, a good sum when you took into consideration she probably made next to nothing working at the docks. She hissed him thanks and he tried not to shudder- her accent reminded him of a cold whispering wind like a chill of death itself.  
  
Thorek turned to go; he was planning to head southwest towards a bandit camp the Innkeeper told him had a hefty bounty, and  hopefully away from the snow. He wasn't effected as much by the snow as the other races thanks to his thick Nord blood, but it was still a pain and he missed the green growth and grasses of Whiterun's Hold.  
  
He made it outside to the drafty stables when the elf showed, carrying a small, empty-looking bag.  
  
At first, Thorek did not greet or even acknowledge the elf, but continued on his way as if the elf wasn't running towards him, signaling attention.  
  
"Hey, slow down," said the high elf as he moved quickly after the stubborn nord. Thorek stopped and turned towards him, thick cords of muscle rippling as he crossed his arms, and looked at the elf.  
  
"Elf, what do you want?" the nord resisted the urge to rub his eyes and sigh. He had already seen the elf to a town where he could stay until he got his bearings back after being attacked by the coven of witches, what more could he want?  
  
"I have a proposition for you," said the elf, emerald eyes watery and shining in the cold, snowy wind. "I heard you talking to the Inn keeper about that lair of bandits to the west, and as it is, I'm in need of employment. With that many bandits, it's going to be a near impossible job for one person, so I can help you out and we can split the profit," the elf smiled nervously, eyeing him up, gauging the nord's reaction.  
  
"I don't need help," immediately responded Thorek, slightly bothered that the elf suggested that he could not defeat all the bandits alone. Even if he did need help, what use was the the waifish, skinny elf to him?  
  
"Yes you do, Skyrim's a dangerous place and with a bounty that high, there has to be a damn lot of bandits lurking in that old fort," the high elf rebutted calmly, fidgeting around with the strap of his leather pack.  
  
"Why don't you get a job working in that alchemy shop, what is it, the White Phial? Or work as a help to the court wizard? Isn't that what you elves do?" Thorek responded, somewhat angry and annoyed by the elf. He had been traveling around doing odd jobs, tracking down criminals, and clearing out bandits for most of his life, and as so lived with the meagre salary of a wanderer. Why would someone come to him of all people for employment?  
  
"I asked at the White Phial, but the man who owns the shop already has a working apprentice. The court wizard is thoroughly unpleasant and lives in the keep with that Jarl Ulfric, nord-supremist and rebel leader, not the most popular place to be looking for work," countered the elf, who was now staring at the burly nord, foot tapping nervously.  
  
"Can you fight?" Thorek asked, sighing. The elf's physical disposition looked fairly frail and weak with a thin neck and bony wrists, not fit to swing a sword or carry a shield.  
  
The elf nodded. "I can fight well with daggers and am a exceptional archer, plus I am also capable of healing and some destruction magic," the golden elf said, then crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, waiting for a reply.  
  
Thorek thought about it, and as much as he felt the elf was intruding on his expedition, he really could use some help even if it was only carrying supplies or cooking, not to mention help with the bandits and whatever robbers and thieves they would inevitably run into along the road.  
  
"Fine. I can't pay you anything as it is, but whenever we collect a bounty, we'll split it in half. Deal?"  
  
"Deal," the elf grinned wolfishly at his new partner.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updating this story! I have been writing when I am not studying or sleeping and it has paid off, thankfully. Please read and review. Readers should be warned that I do not reread what I've written for clarity, or to check grammar, or anything but at least the story should be (somewhat) coherent.

The nord had seemed suspicious of his company, treating him distantly and cooly, unwilling to carry conversations longer than comments on the weather that day. The first night on their journey, the nord had jumped eyes wide with surprise when Faelon lit the fire- Thorek had been trying, unsuccessfully, to start it by catching a snow-logged branch with his flint and steel and eventually the elf grew tired of watching his futile struggle and simply set the logs aflame with a low-powered fire spell.

After quickly recovering from his frightened composition, Thorek scowled deeply at him and simply remarked,

“Let me know before you do any sudden magic tricks, elf” and stomped away from the crackling fire to polish his armor and rummage angrily about his travel sack. The nord’s ordeal immured Faelon immensely, the thought of the sturdy nord getting his britches in a twist by a simple spell taught to most Altmer children.

Even though the two hadn’t gotten very far away from Windhelm, Faelon still had built up an impressive collection of herbs and berries in his alchemy sack. It was nowhere as impressive as the amount he had before he was captured by the hags but it would get there, slowly. He also had collected enough deer pelts to make himself a thick coat that even had a hood, it made travel in the cold a lot more comfortable.

Traveling with Thorek was interesting to say the least. The nord used the roads as mere guidelines rather than a trail to follow and led them through deep drifts of snow seemingly on a whim, or when the snow had covered too thickly over the road to decide where exactly it was. They got up at first light every day to make more time available to travel to where the bandits were and only stopped when it was so dark they couldn’t have journeyed on even if they wanted too. Or at least if Thorek wanted too- the stubborn nord had made it crystal clear many times that he did not give a skeever’s ass what Faelon wanted.

The road was filled with a numbing freeze that only ever subsided after they had started the night’s fire, but even then it slowly smothered the heat of the fire unless it was attended diligently; it was not uncommon for Faelon to awaken frigid with tiny icicles gathering in his hair and on his clothes because the fire had dwindled down to small remains of burnt wood and ash. Faelon suspected the nord didn’t show much discomfort towards the cold but whether that was from the nord’s thick blood or because he was too difficult to listen to anything, including the weather itself, Faelon could not tell.

 

* * *

 

After a few weeks of travel on one morning, Thorek approached Faelon while he was completing his morning routine of stretching and getting enough courage to exit his bedroll.

“We should reach the bandit's tower by midday today, which will leave us with enough time to clear them out and find a nearby place to setup camp. That is assuming you don't stay in your bedroll until midday,” he said while eyeing Faelon.

  
“Are you saying that's an option? Because I'm completely capable of doing nothing for the next few hours,” replied Faelon, while returning to a comfortable position on his back with his arms crossed above his head.

To that Thorek was visibly flustered, “Elf if you think I'm going to pay you to lie around all day while I finish off all the bandits then obviously all that magic you've been doing has been interfering with your head.”

  
“Alright, Alright, I'm waking up, no need to get your britches in a twist,” replied Faelon who stood up and started packing his meager possessions.

Thorek scowled and walked off while chewing some dried venison. They had basic foods, mostly meats from hunting and a few rare vegetables found near the roadside that gave them sustenance, but Faelon was still looking forward to purchasing a big wedge of cheese with his upcoming bounty pay. Maybe even two if the loot was good.

  
The day was like most normal days except when they arrived near the tower-bridge the bandits had holed up into. Thorek and Faelon had to be as stealthy as possible in approaching to avoid attracting the bandits attention and a volley of arrows, and they were very successful until Faelon tripped on a partially exposed rock and fell into the wooden door of the bandit's tower with a resounding thud.

Thorek shoved Faelon out of the way and tried to salvage any amount of surprise their arrival still had by charging up the steps with his sword unsheathed toward a female orc who had been the first bandit to notice them. She and Thorek clashed swords and picked up fighting immediately. Faelon recovered as fast as he could and shot the orc struggling with Thorek in the shoulder; Thorek overpowered her and pushed her body away.

“Try not to fall and and break your neck on the steps before we kill all the bandits elf,” exclaimed Thorek as he made his way up the carved stone steps onto the second level, another bandit already coming down to meet him.

  
This one did not even last as long as the female orc had against Thorek, Faelon was not even able to help because the fight was so quick and the bandits body crashed bloodied down the steps.

  
All the bandits quickly fell and all that was left was to empty their purses. There was a few jewels and elaborate trinkets that had been collected by the thieves and that was worth a good amount of coins. To his hidden delight Thorek had allocated him, along with his half of the coins of course, a silver necklace with inlayed with garnets. It was far too shiny for Faelon to willingly part with it, even to sell, so he wore it underneath his large fur coat. Maybe one day he would even enchant it.

For that night they decided, meaning Thorek decided, that they would camp somewhere other than the tower previously occupied by the bandits because “It is in bad taste to linger in the death place of such a large number of souls, especially violent ones.” This led to unanticipated turmoil among the living when Faelon commented that was “just superstition masquerading as morality.”

“What's wrong with being superstitious? I know all you wood elves believe in souls and capturing them all in glittery rocks that fuel your magical weapons of destruction,” said the nord with a angrily growing furrow in his brow.

  
“All that proves is that you don't know anything about magic, or soul gems. Even a child knows that the actual soul doesn't go into the gem it's just the energy!” exclaimed Faelon, exasperated in his perception of Thorek's incompetence.

“The bottom line is that because you're too scared of ghosts, we're out here wandering around in the middle of the night, in an unfamiliar area to both of us, the one time we actually have things thieves are interested in!”

“You're afraid of a simple thief after I defeated a whole tower of bandits,” stated Thorek.

“I was there too you know, it wasn't just you.”

  
“I know. So did those bandits the moment you decided to trip over your own feet,” Thorek matter-of-factly said.

“It was a rock, okay,” exclaimed Faelon, officially finished with the conversation.

“You're too worried about things that aren't likely to happen. We're more likely to get attacked by a wild animal than a person; there's a lot more animals out in the woods at night than there are people,” Thorek continued.

  
“That's what I thought before I was hog-tied, naked, by a coven of crazy women- and not in a good way,” Faelon said, only half joking.

  
“If you're that bothered we can stop up over here, elf. It's getting too dark anyway,” replied the nord who motioned to a small clearing cut into a face of rock and shielded form the worst of the wind by the mountain on one side and a thick growth of trees and plants on the other. There was only minimal bushes to be cleared before they set up their bedrolls, protected by the elements with a simple hide lean-to.

“How long have you been out here? You know, living in the wilderness? I know you must go to cities sometimes but you are too at-home in the woods to have ever really settled down in any place,” Faelon asked, after they had made their bedrolls and laid out by the fire.

“Awhile. At first it was because the small town I lived in didn't have much of an economy so any profession was mostly based out of the wilderness, getting raw materials for living and other labor. I left there sometime in my adolescence, but I never stayed in one place long enough to make a living at any city. I have grown up living off the land and it was what I am good at so I never really thought about doing anything else,” Thorek seriously. He turned over in his bedroll, shifting himself closer to the fire.  
“What about you, elf? Wandering the wilderness, in Skyrim no less. Don't get tight-lipped on me now that I've up and near told my whole life story,” Thorek remarked.

“If that was your whole life story it's a good thing you've never had the want to become a bard,” joked Faelon.

“I've only actually been wandering the wilderness of Skyrim for a few years actually. I got on a boat to High Rock with a friend- he's still there, somewhere in the east probably. I wasn't in love with the place though, the landscape or the people. So I crossed the mountains into Skyrim and wandered around the reach and falkreath hold, doing odd jobs, selling pelts and ore, and here I am,” Faelon chattered.

“Now be a good nord and pass me one of those bottles of wine I saw you pilfer from the bandits person store,” Faelon motioned at Thorek's pack of food and alcohol.  
Thorek feigned surprise for a moment and then eventually caved and passed the bottle to Faelon. “I mostly drink mead anyway,” he commented and rolled away from Faelon, ending their conversation.

Faelon took a large swig and ended up staring into the fireplace until falling asleep. He had strange dreams- a fitting way to end a strange day with killing bandits and having a full conversation with Thorek and all. He dreamt of werewolves and werebears, running around whiterun hold during midday. There was a surprisingly few amount of people- none except himself, Thorek was nowhere to be seen as far as he could tell. Why were they running? Where they going to fight? Faelon was just starting to get his bearings straight but he ended waking up before he could even start to make heads or tails of it.

 

* * *

 

 

Their journey back was short and easier than the going out to the tower for Faelon. Thorek was not particularly difficult or troubling to travel with once Basil could predict his routines, and it was nice to share the lonely nature of the road with someone.

Back in Windhelm Thorek collected the bounty and Faelon got the chance to lollygag around Windhelm, officially to replenish his supplies but mostly he was just wandering. The main gossip was a murdered girl, slashed right open in the middle of the night, to which the every person in the town had their own insight. Stories ranged from the poor girl who got caught at the wrong time by a serial killer to claims that she was a witch who had summoned a dremora but couldn't control it in the end, and it shredded her to death.

“Elf, pay attention or I'm going to leave with your share,” Thorek talked loudly in Faelon's direction who had been staring, and daydreaming, at a pile of snow slowly accumulating on the cold grey stone that made up the city. Unbeknownst to Faelon, Thorek had been standing near him trying to silently gain his attention for the last minute or so.

“Okay, I'm paying attention,” Faelon replied.

  
“Here's your half, it's only a hundred gold but it's alright considering the loot we got from the bandits,” Thorek told him and counted out his coins.  
“Listen, what are you going to do now that you're here?” Thorek asked Faelon.

“Well maybe I'll solve the slash-y murder-mystery thing going on here, it shouldn't take too long. I think all these people need is some fresh perspective, one that's not riddled with the insanity of nord superstition combined with the gossip of urban living,” Faelon replied jokingly.

“If you get tired of sightseeing and lollygagging around, come see me before tomorrow morning. I'll be at the Inn,” Thorek clapped the back of his shoulder and turned and left Faelon standing alone.

Faelon knew that he had no intention of staying here, it was far too cold and dreary, so he decided to take Thorek up on his offer. He bought new supplies with his, quickly evaporating, bag of gold coins, including leather armor and and traveling cloak and hood to protect him from the cold. For the thrill he decided to look at the local alchemy store, the White Phial, and Faelon spent more gold on health potions for a worse-case scenario.

By the time he was finished it was nearly dinner time as the sky was starting to grow darker and the air harsher. He headed to the inn to meet Thorek; the inn was a welcoming place with a large hearth that contained a crackling fire, although he could have done without the heads of preserved animals secured high on the wall. Thorek was upstairs in the inn, sitting alone at a table near the corner. Faelon could hear the soft vocals of a bards sad tune across the room.

“Quite the social butterfly aren't you? I leave and you have to sit alone in the corner,” Faelon said after approaching the nord from behind.

“So you're coming, eh? Then I can't be that bad socially, especially if I'm in the good with a finicky elf,” Thorek replied in turn, continuing to eat his stew.

“I never said I was coming,” Faelon replied too quickly, shifting as he stood.

“You never would've came here otherwise,” Thorek responded in turn, scraping the last of the beef broth off the bottom of the wooden bowl.

“Damn, I'm getting predictable,” Faelon said with a smile.

Faelon ended up ordering stew at the inn as he was painfully aware he had little to eat the entire day.

“Have you found a new bounty yet?” said the elf, who was genuinely curious.

“Vampires,” Thorek responded, taking a long swig of ale. “There's a whole cave of them, not too far from here. It should take a week to get there at the most. I've never had any direct run-ins with vampires, but the bounty is high enough that I'm willing to take the chance. Also because you are a magic user they shouldn't have us at too big of a disadvantage.”

“Before we leave we need to get cure-disease potions you realize?” Faelon responded. He was not excited about the vampiric nature of their targets, a little worried actually. Stories of vampires were riddled with lore and fictitious myths to the point that learning about how they really are was difficult.

“I already bought one,” Thorek responded.

“I'll get one tomorrow,” Faelon announced, “When are you planning to leave, anyway?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Thorek said. Faelon raised his eyebrows,

“Don't you think that's a little soon?”

“I thought you wanted to leave here anyway? And no it's not a little soon, I want to spend as little time in the city as possible,” the nord replied.

“Okay, I'll wake up earlier, get the potion and some last minute supplies and meet you back here before noon,” Faelon said.

The two observed customers and the bard singing for a little while longer until Thorek stood to retreat back to his room.

“You're staying in a room at the inn, right?” Faelon asked.

“Yes, I don't live here,” Thorek replied somewhat confused.

“Do you mind if I share your room? It would be wasteful for us both to pay for a separate one.” Faelon questioned.

“Fine,” Thorek stated abruptly, secretly was pleased that the elf would probably be warming his bed tonight.

Thorek walked the way to his room with Faelon following and started organizing his new supplies for tomorrow.

“You can take the wash basin, I've already washed today,” Thorek informed the elf.

Faelon could see Thorek washing himself in one of the deep rivers that snaked just outside Windhelm, barely being bothered by the fact it was snowing outside. The elf himself would never take his cloak off in that cold, much less all of his clothes.

Faelon stripped himself and made use of the wash basin and cleaned himself as well as he could. It felt amazing and the heated water was a relaxing alternative to the cold unheated water of the rivers and streams he came across while traveling. When he was done he put on his long pants in anticipation of a cold night. Well not too cold since Thorek would be sleeping, and generating heat, near him.

The aforementioned nord was already laying in bed underneath the fur covers in nothing but a pair of thin pants, turned toward the opposite side of the room. Faelon savored the view of Thorek's strong, bare shoulders slowly rising and falling under his blanket. He crawled in the bed next to the nord, the small single bed making him pull himself close to the other which he secretly enjoyed. It was warm and comfortable in the bed and Faelon fell asleep quickly.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment or critque


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